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Of all who were pleased with Zjing’s promotion to Master,
none was more glad than the monk Wangohan of the
Spider Clan. For Wangohan had many ideas on how to improve the
Temple’s software, and he was eager to share them with a
sympathetic ear.

“Wangohan has discovered a very promising new user interface
framework,” said Zjing at her weekly teleconference with
the senior masters. “He wishes to use it on his next
project.”

“Young master,” scowled Banzen (and now Zjing knew herself
to be on shaky ground, the same as when her father addressed
her as young lady), “do you fight Wangohan’s battles because
you believe in his cause, prize his friendship, or fear the
poisons in his spice rack?”

Zjing took a deep breath. “Wú,” she said, finding sudden
inspiration. “If we do not indulge the senior developers
their most reasonable requests, surely they will grow
discouraged and cease attempting to improve the temple, and
we will be the worse for it.”

The first two masters looked at Banzen, who considered this.
“Very well,” he said at last. “Let the monk play with his new
toy.”

The novice Satou, apprenticed to Banzen, approached him when
the meeting had ended. “Oftimes you have cautioned me away
from the unknown. How old must I be before you trust me as
you trust Wangohan?”

“Wú,” said Banzen. “I trust only that Zjing’s decision is a
poor one, and that she will soon understand why. But if we
do not indulge the young masters their most reasonable
requests, surely they will grow discouraged and cease
attempting to improve the temple, and we will be the worse
for it.”